


we could be the way forward

by dearhappy



Category: DC Extended Universe, Justice League (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Leverage Fusion, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Crimes & Criminals, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Moral Ambiguity, Multi, superbat doesn't actually happen in this but the set up is definitely there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28352502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearhappy/pseuds/dearhappy
Summary: When Lex Luthor comes to him with an offer, Bruce knows that he should say no. He should walk away and pretend this conversation never happened. Truthfully, he should’ve kept walking as soon as stealing was brought up.He ends up agreeing anyway.Later, he’ll tell Alfred that he agreed because Luthor was right, it’s just helping someone, albeit in an unconventional way. And deep down, Bruce has always been a sucker for helping people. They both know he’s lying.(or the leverage au)
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Justice League & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	we could be the way forward

**Author's Note:**

> It's just me and my whims at this point, so this is an incredibly self-indulgent (and possibly niche) concept but I really hope that someone enjoys it as much as I have enjoyed writing it.
> 
> You don't need to know anything about Leverage to read this au, but the basic premise of the show is a group of thieves working to take down the greedy and corrupt. (It's an excellent show, I highly recommend it!) This fic is heavily inspired by the first episode of the show, if you want to check it out. 
> 
> If you're also a Leverage fan, I hope you enjoy this! Also, I decided to make Bruce an ex FBI Agent instead of an ex-insurance investigator because it made a lot more sense considering who Bruce is as a character.
> 
> Also, this is my first dceu justice league/superbat fic, so that's something. And it's extremely nerve wracking. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: The alcoholism is minor and addressed briefly. There's also references to Robin's death. (I didn't actually use Dick's name (I'll admit, I'm waiting to see if the Snyder cut gives us on screen confirmation). But I did use elements of Jason's death (i.e. the warehouse explosion). So, really, you can read it as either Robin.)
> 
> All that said, please enjoy!

“Bruce Wayne?”

A Metropolis hotel bar at noon is the last place that he’d been expecting someone to know who he was. “Who’s asking?” he replies, not bothering to look up from his phone. He’s debating how to reply to Alfred’s text. 

The stranger laughs, delighted. “You certainly are a tough one to track down, Bruce Wayne. And trust me, I’ve been looking. Took a few trips to Gotham to see if I could make this meeting happen.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees the stranger move closer to pull out the stool next to him before sitting. 

“Then wouldn’t you know it, I get a tip that you’ve got a job interview in my city. It’s almost like destiny!”

At that Bruce turns to look at the stranger, is met with a familiar face. The man turns towards the bartender and asks for a bowl of pretzels and a drink. It takes a moment to place how he recognizes him, he’s seen enough of him in the newsstands all around Metropolis. 

“I don’t believe in destiny."

“Hm.” Luthor turns to look at him with a considering look. “Most people don’t.” He sticks his hand out and smiles, “Lex Luthor.”

Bruce stares at his hand. Instead of shaking it, he picks up his drink. “What do you want?”

Luthor retracts his hand after a moment. “Not one to beat around the bush, I admire that,” he says, turning to the bartender bringing over his order. He picks at the pretzels. “I must confess something, Bruce. Can I call you, Bruce?" He doesn't wait for a reply, not that Bruce was planning one, "I’ve done my research.”

He turns in his seat to face Bruce. “I know all about you,” he continues, “Rejecting the CEO position of your family’s company to pursue a career in public service. It’s, uh, well...” He tilts his head a bit as if debating his word choice. 

And Bruce can think of the many ways he can finish that sentence. The many ways he has heard it finished before. 

He suspects that Luthor is going to offer to buy the company. Something Bruce knows he’s tried to do multiple times over the years, but Lucius continues to turn it down. It’s a smart move, Bruce muses, to go above the board, straight to the sole heir. Although, his answer is always going to be no.

“Well, it’s certainly not what I would’ve done. But from my research I get why you would,” Luthor continues, a sympathetic smile. “You know, we could’ve been competitors. Or allies in this business world. Isn’t that funny to think about? In another life, huh?”

Bruce sighs. “I’m not hearing why you were looking for me.”

Luthor laughs again, gesturing with his hand a bit. “Yes, I do have a point, other than musing about what could’ve been.” He shifts again, as he looks at Bruce with a strange expression. “I’ve read all about your career in the FBI. You managed to be considered one of their top agents so shortly after joining. Went on to accomplish so much over the years, it’s fantastic. Truly.”

His impatience must be showing because Luthor grimaces briefly. 

“But I digress, uh…” He clears his throat looking at the bowl in front of him as if he lost his train of thought for a moment. He shakes his head. “Uh, yeah, I know your success rate speaks for itself on how well you were doing. It’s a shame, what they did to you, all because you wanted to do the right thing. They ruined your reputation and credibility. And didn’t even have the guts to help put the man that killed your-”

Bruce feels a rush of anger rising as he slams his glass down with a lot more force than necessary. It loudly echoes on the bar top, some of it splashes out. He grits out, “Make your point.”

Luthor’s eyes widen as he stares at the glass still in Bruce’s hand. He doesn’t move at first, then clears his throat and shakes whatever thoughts crossed his mind. 

“I have a proposition for you.”

Bruce turns more fully, keeping his expression neutral as he looks Luthor over, and figures he’d been right on his assessment: it’s a shake down for his family’s company. 

“I’m not interested, son,” he says, downing the rest of his drink, focusing on his unanswered texts.

“But you haven’t even heard my offer yet,” Luthor says, leaning into Bruce’s space, hand clapping onto his shoulder. Bruce stares at where his hand is before looking at Luthor. 

Quickly Luthor moves his hand with a grimace, holding both up in a sign of surrender. He clears his throat, and cheerfully adds, “I want to offer you a job. That’s all.”

It’s definitely not what he was expecting to hear from him. For a brief second, he thinks he’s probably drunker than he thought. He shakes his head. “Not interested.” 

“You might be,” Luthor insists. “I know you’re on the job hunt and here I am offering one.”

Bruce knows that there’s no way he’d be interested in any job that Lex Luthor has to offer. But he knows how persistent men like Luthor are and there’s no harm in gathering all the information, even if it doesn’t change his answer. 

“What’s the job?”

His eyes narrow at the almost triumphant look that briefly crosses Luthor’s face. 

“You may not know, but my R&D gets up to all kinds of no good,” Luthor starts, a wry smile. “A few years ago, we started designing a new airplane. It was going to be our next big thing but recently all my designs disappeared. All of them, even backups, all gone. _Stolen."_

Bruce is surprised by that revelation, but now things are clicking into a much more familiar place. This is something he knows all about. Except it doesn’t make sense for Luthor to come to him when he’d have all the resources to hire anybody, or even open an investigation with authorities. A gut instinct tells him that there’s more to it.

“You want me to find them,” he observes.

“Uh, no,” Luthor says, while wagging his finger slightly. “No, see, I know exactly where they are.” He glances around the still mostly empty bar, quietly says, “I want you to steal them back.”

There's the catch. He’s almost sure he heard him wrong. But he takes in the serious expression on Luthor’s face and knows he’s not mistaken.

“You’re telling a federal agent to commit a crime.”

There’s a wry tilt to the corners of Luthor’s mouth. “Ex,” he says, adding stress to the single word, “Ex-federal agent.”

There’s something about the way he says it. As if that changes Bruce’s views on things like crime.

“Still doesn’t mean I’m going to do your dirty work,” Bruce answers firmly. “Have a good day, Luthor,” he adds dryly, walking away. 

He doesn’t get far, Luthor is being extremely persistent as he falls into step with Bruce. “Wait. I know you’re not a thief. You’re a good man,” he says, “And that is precisely why I need you. I don’t know what-”

“Hire someone else. Go to the authorities,” Bruce answers, still not slowing his pace as he walks through the lobby, towards an exit. “You could afford it.”

“I could, yes. But, well, it’s not that simple. All that red tape, you know. It could take months, years even, to be able to get my designs back,” Luthor rambles off. “I need to avoid that. I have a shareholder’s meeting at the end of the month and I’m supposed to present the designs. I’m dead if I show up empty handed after all that went into it. So, you see, it’s imperative that I get them back fast.”

Bruce can hear the almost desperate edge in Luthor’s voice and when he turns he can see the pleading in his gaze. But he doesn’t let that sway him, he flashes a sardonic smile, “That’s not my problem.”

When he turns again to continue walking, he hears Luthor's frustrated sigh. He doesn’t get to the doors though because Luthor says, “Don’t think of it as stealing, think of it as simply righting a wrong.” That gives Bruce enough of a pause. “I- Just hear me out. That’s all I’m asking.”

And despite Bruce’s better judgement, he asks, “Who stole them?”

Luthor perks up at that, a flash of relief as he turns to look around and gestures to a woman that’s sitting in the waiting area. She comes to them, hands over a manila folder from her bag. “Thank you, Mercy,” Luthor says, smiling. 

Bruce watches her walk back towards where she’d been originally, then meets Luthor’s amused expression. Luthor says, “STAR Labs.”

Bruce doesn’t ask any of the obvious questions, he only raises a brow and waits for Luthor to get the hint, which he does fairly quickly. He doesn’t even seem deterred that Bruce isn’t asking questions while he explains the situation. 

He listens to Luthor telling him that one of his engineers went missing around the same time he realized that all the files were gone. Then several days later, STAR Labs announced a near identical project, it doesn’t take a detective to see that there’s no coincidence there. All the while, Bruce is studying him carefully. 

“I have spent millions and several years on perfecting this project,” Luthor says evenly, shaking his head. “I need to get it back.”

He’s cataloguing everything he’s noticed, along with going over all that Luthor has told him so far. He debates with himself as he watches the defeated look settle on Luthor’s face, it seems genuine. 

But he’s known men like Luthor, knows how dangerous they can be, just how calculating, especially when desperate like Luthor is now. And it doesn’t matter that Luthor seems relatively harmless in comparison, he knows how deceiving looks can be.

“It’s a risk to steal them back,” he settles on saying. He can already think of several ways that this plan can backfire and that’s without any knowledge on STAR Labs security.

Luthor nods. “I know, I know. But I’m willing to risk it. Plus, I’ve already hired some people,” he says in a rush, fingers gently tapping the manila folder in his hand before he holds it out. 

When Bruce doesn’t reach out to take it, Luthor’s eyebrows shoot up, an almost expectant look on his face as he nods for Bruce to take the file.

“I’m not a thief.”

“I’ve got thieves,” he says, shaking the folder slightly. “What I need is one honest man to watch them. I need you to make sure I’m not being ripped off, you’re an expert in catching criminals.”

And Bruce doesn’t mention that him being an honest man is entirely relative. 

Instead, he sighs, and reaches for the folder. He knows this is a bad idea. He won’t do it, there’s too many unknown variables including Luthor, there’s no way he can slightly trust him. Though there’s no harm in seeing who he’s recruiting.

When he flips it open, he instantly recognizes the first name. 

“You hired Arthur?”

“Yeah. Is there someone better?” Luthor asks, sounding curious. It’s clear that he wants to know that he’s hired the best that money can offer.

Bruce glances at him before looking back at the dossier that doesn’t even cover half of what Arthur Curry is capable of. Bruce knows that Arthur’s official file has been redacted and classified to hell, not much is known about his time in the military before going into crime. Even without the full picture, it’s obvious that Arthur is highly trained and good at what he does. 

Although he does have a bit of a reckless streak. More importantly, he refuses to work with anyone and is very particular about the jobs he does take. Meaning, this won’t work.

But Bruce doesn’t say any of that, instead he looks at the other hires.

There’s a picture from a grainy security feed of a young man. He doesn’t need to read the name to know it’s Barry Allen. 

A famously elusive thief, mostly known for art theft, avoiding violence, and his rumored ability to be in and out of places so fast without anyone the wiser. The fact that his name is even known had been a series of slip ups that added up to reveal Barry wasn't the best at covering his tracks despite his skillset. Added to the fact that a former associate had given him up, after an anonymous tip with evidence provided had landed said associate in prison for murder during a job gone wrong.

The final name is Cyborg, the handle of Victor Stone, though Luthor’s file doesn’t have that information. Not that Bruce expects him to, frankly, there’s very few people that actually know his real name because it’s not available in any file on him, always conveniently erased if it were ever there at all. Along with all traces that could possibly tie the two names together. Even the paper copies manage to disappear not long after they’ve been filed. Above all, he’s someone who doesn’t want to be found.

“It won’t work,” Bruce says decisively, after he thinks over every bit of information that he knows about the three of them. And what they have in common (other than the various arrest warrants spanning multiple countries): “All of them work alone. They’re very particular about who they associate with. There’s no way they’ll work together and they certainly won’t work for you.”

“Ah, true. But they will,” Luthor immediately replies, nodding, sounding so sure of himself. “They will for five hundred thousand each. In fact, they already agreed. And for you, for running it, that’s double the price. Completely off the books, of course. I’m good for it. Obviously.”

Bruce doesn’t reply right away. A part of him almost agrees, because he always wants to solve problems and here’s one that he can easily solve. But another part of him, the one that got him the reputation of being paranoid, is what makes him hesitate.

He can’t help wondering what the catch is, because there has to be one.

“I don’t want your money,” he finally says, shoving the folder back into Luthor’s hands. 

“There’s an added bonus,” Luthor says, as soon as he's started to walk away. “Specifically for you, Bruce.”

Bruce pauses, turning slightly to look back at Luther.

“STAR’s got millions in intellectual insurance on their projects. And they’re ensured by the same insurance company that, well…” Luthor trails off and makes a face, it’s very pointed and suggestive. Clearly he learned from his early slip not to bring up the topic of -

Well. 

Bruce's jaw tightens as he realizes what Luthor is doing, feels a burst of hatred settle, heavy and scorching, in his stomach. Not just towards Luthor. No, the burning rage is towards the man that Luthor is telling him that he could get to by doing this job.

And Bruce should say no. He should walk away and pretend this conversation never happened. Truthfully, he should’ve kept walking when stealing was brought up. There’s so many things Bruce should do. 

Except-

Except, he’s not sure when else he’d get an opportunity like this. The man deserves far worse than losing millions of dollars, but it’s as good a place as any to start.

(He’ll tell Alfred that he agreed because Luthor was right, it’s just helping someone, albeit in an unconventional way. And deep down, Bruce has always been a sucker for helping people. Besides, if Bruce said no, he would've just gone to someone else, this way he can keep an eye on Luthor. They both know he’s lying.)

* * *

They plan the job for several days after their first rocky meeting together.

(Luthor seemed oblivious to the wariness as he clapped his hands and rejoiced, “I love bringing people together!” before leaving them to their own devices. 

Well, most of them were wary, except Barry. During the entire planning of the job he was filled with friendly energy, even when he’d kept getting rebuffed each time. And Bruce couldn’t help but feel fond of the kid despite his best efforts.

Victor refused to budge on using any name other than Cyborg or Cy, even when Barry had attempted to guess his real name. This led to Bruce mentioning they shouldn’t use real names during the job which caused Barry to come up with nicknames for the rest of them.

And Arthur kept pocketing anything that anyone left laying around while making it known he wants to do this job as quickly as possible.)

They meet up in front of STAR Labs, the three of them heading towards it, while Bruce heads inside the building right across from it. It’s freshly constructed yet still abandoned as the final repairs are going on, in other words: the perfect place to run the job from.

The job goes smoothly, there’s a few problems but nothing that Bruce didn’t already prepare for. Even if he didn’t tell the rest of them that when going over the finalized plan.

“Problem?” Arthur asks, over the comms.

And Bruce can see him looking around through the live feed. “There’s four guards heading your way.”

“Not good. I’m gonna need a few more minutes,” Victor says. 

“I can buy you time,” Bruce states without hesitation. “Squelch them,” he orders Barry, and doesn’t wait for confirmation to continue, “A clear the zone. Use Cy as bait.”

“Oh, now we’re talking,” Arthur says.

Victor must’ve been more focused on watching the codebreaker because he asks, several beats too late, “Did he just say use me as bait?” Then, groans when Barry confirms it. “Hell no. I did not agree to be anyone's bait!”

“Too late. They’re almost there,” Barry warns him, sounding sympathetic.

Victor curses quietly, Bruce figures he’s decided that this job is not worth getting caught, and he doesn’t blame him. But before he even gets a few feet away from the door the guards are on him and just as quickly Arthur is taking them down. 

“Woah, that was pretty badass,” Barry says.

"Everything I do is badass," Arthur retorts.

At that moment, the codebreaker has unlocked the door and Victor quickly gets to work. It doesn’t take long for him to find what they’re there for. “Stripping the drives as we speak,” he says, “Got them.”

“Drop the spike,” Bruce reminds him, even though he doesn’t need to.

“Did you give them a virus?” Arthur asks.

“I gave them more than one,” Victor says wryly.

“Hey, uh. We’ve got a minor, well, no. It’s major. A major problem. You know those guards you took down?” Barry says, sounding anxious, and Bruce immediately scans the security feeds to spot the problem. “Yeah, they may have reset the alarms. So, uh, no going up for us.”

“Looks like it's every man for themselves,” Arthur announces. “Good luck, kids.”

Victor scoffs, and points out, “I’m the one with the merchandise.”

“Well, I have an exit,” Barry inputs. And all too quickly it delves into an argument between the three of them.

“And I’m the one with a plan,” Bruce cuts in sharply, cutting them off before they get further off track. “Everyone heads for the elevator. The burn scam.”

He watches them disappear into the elevator and scans the rest of the feed for any obvious signs of trouble. When nothing stands out, he shuts it all down and begins packing up.

“So, going to Plan B, huh?” Barry jokes, sounding slightly breathless.

“Plan G,” Bruce replies, glancing around one last time to make sure he has everything. Moving to make his way to the ground floor as quickly as he can.

Barry laughs. Then: “Wait, seriously? So what? Is there a Plan M?”

“You die in that one,” Bruce answers mildly. Barry lets out an affronted sound and he doesn’t bother to hide his amusement since nobody can see him. 

“I like Plan M,” Arthur says. Barry sputters in offense.

“How many plans do you have?” Victor asks, there’s noises in the background. “Hey, watch it.”

“You don’t want to know,” Bruce answers.

He hears someone scoff. Barry says, "You're a real weird guy." Followed by chatter as he gets to the ground floor.

A few moments later, he’s already in a car, quickly pulling up in front of STAR Labs. Vaguely aware of Barry rambling angrily at the security guard for staring, Arthur hurling insults, and Victor insisting he’s fine, sounding perfectly choked up.

He watches as they finally exit the doors, keeping a slow pace at first, Victor on crutches hobbling precariously. Which becomes evident is part of the act when he becomes much more steady the closer to the car he gets.

Once everyone’s inside, Bruce wastes no time speeding off, while Barry quickly returns Victor’s prosthetic leg.

“You three are exactly why I work alone,” Arthur announces.

* * *

At a park far enough from STAR labs to avoid suspicion, they gather around a concrete chess table while Victor sits down and types away on his laptop, getting ready to send the designs to Luthor.

Bruce watches over his shoulder to see that the job is being done. 

It’s nearing the early hours of morning and seems to be taking all night to send off the files. Something Arthur keeps complaining about. And each time, he gets an annoyed glare and Bruce is pretty sure Victor is purposely taking his time to annoy Arthur.

Finally, Victor announces, “Alright, it's done.” 

“Your money will be in your accounts later today,” Bruce says, taking in the sight of the screen that Victor shows him proving that he’d sent them off to Luthor.

“Cool, great. I gotta say we were pretty amazing last night,” Barry says excitedly, grinning as he looks around. “We make a great team.”

“We’re not a team,” Bruce replies.

Victor nods, shutting his laptop and packing it away. “This was a one time thing,” he says, zipping up his bag. “We’re not going to see each other ever again.”

Barry looks vaguely upset about that, even though it’s been clear since the start that this was always going to end with them going their separate ways.

“Yeah, I already forgot your names,” Arthur says, standing up from where he’d been sitting.

“I mean, I know, this was a one time thing, but you guys have to admit we did make a great team,” Barry insists. 

And Bruce glances over to see Arthur and Victor avoiding Barry’s gaze. Nobody wants to admit it. He’d never admit it aloud, but the kid’s got a point.

When the silence goes on for longer than a few seconds, Barry continues, “And it was nice finally being on the same side for once. Seriously, it's a relief not being scared of you finally catching me.”

“We’re not on the same side,” Bruce says, narrowing his eyes at Barry. “I’m not a thief.”

Arthur snorts, and grins when Bruce glares at him.

Victor heaves his bag onto his shoulder and gives Bruce a certain look, brow raised slightly. “You are now,” he points out.

“He’s right. Admit it,” Arthur says, expression partly challenging, partly amused. “You enjoyed playing the other side, didn’t you? The Great Agent Wayne embracing the black king instead of the white knight.”

Bruce rolls his eyes at that. He knows nothing he says will change Arthur's mind on whatever he’s decided about Bruce. Besides he doesn’t owe them any explanations.

The four of them stand there in a tense silence for a moment, Bruce looks away from Arthur towards the others. Nobody speaks, but they all seem to agree that it’s time to leave and just as quickly they’re each going off in their own direction. 

Their time together is over.

* * *

It’s still dark outside when Bruce wakes up, it takes him a moment to register what had woken him up. His head pounding from a hangover while his phone incessantly vibrates against the bedside table. When he reaches for it he’s expecting it to be Alfred, even though he never calls early unless there’s an emergency. Instead, he sees Luthor’s calling and groans as he sits up.

Instantly, he’s being yelled at by Luthor, which only worsens his pounding headache. He gets snatches of the rant, mostly how he’s been screwed over, the files never came in, and that’s enough to put it together.

Except Bruce knows he saw them get sent out but knowing who he was dealing with last night means that there’s no guarantee. There’s any number of possibilities of where things went wrong. 

He says, “They’re thieves, what did you expect?”

Luthor startles with a bitter, unhappy laugh. “Right. But I seem to recall that I hired you to watch them. Specifically to _prevent_ this kind of thing from happening.”

He closes his eyes, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, running his hand over his face. “I watched it get sent to you,” he grits out, jaw tightening as he thinks over the entire night.

So much for being a great team, he thinks bitterly. 

“Well, something went wrong!” Luthor stresses loudly, he hears a sharp exhale over the line. “I’ve got nothing, zip, zilch, on my end!” Bruce rolls his eyes. “And guess what? Now you don’t either. I’m freezing the payment, _all_ of them.”

Bruce grunts as he pinches the bridge of his nose, if he hadn’t already regretted this he’d be starting to. It’d be an understatement to say the others won’t be happy when they find out. He sighs, looking at the ceiling, “Alright. I’ll drop by and figure this out.”

"No, no,” Luthor says, all too quickly. “That’s not a good idea at all. We can't be seen together right now.” A pause, clear noise in the background that sounds like pacing, “Okay. Okay, look, there's an old warehouse just outside of the city that we can meet. I'll send you the address. One hour."

Luther abruptly hangs up after that, a few minutes later he gets a text with an address.

When Bruce arrives at the location, he keeps a sharp eye out. The LexCorp logo is faded and weathered down. He walks in slowly, follows the sound of voices until he turns a corner into an open space to find Victor and Barry standing in the center.

“C’mon, dude, you can tell me if you did something, I won’t get mad,” Barry’s saying, while Victor leans against the crate beside them. Neither of them seem to notice his arrival. 

“Mind telling me what happened to the designs?” Bruce asks, causing them both to turn towards him with a start. 

“I thought you happened to it,” Victor says, the accusation heavy in his tone. 

Bruce doesn’t get to reply because Arthur comes into view, loudly saying, “I didn’t get my money. Which one of you is responsible for that?” He’s advancing towards the three of them with a glare on his face. He stops near Bruce, sharply asks, “Was it you? You’re the only one who’s ever played both sides.”

Bruce raises a brow, and says, “We both know that’s not true.”

There’s a flash of anger in Arthur’s face at even the vague mention of his past. In a quick motion, he’s going for an attack and Bruce braces himself for it. Barry’s startled shout in the background as Bruce gets pinned for a moment before retaliating and sending Arthur landing in a huff on the ground. His knee braced against Arthur’s chest. 

“Stand down," Bruce states before Arthur inevitably goes for another attack. "Are you armed?” He's glaring down at Arthur who rolls his eyes in response. He turns towards the others. “Well?”

Victor shakes his head. And Barry quickly says, hands raised, “Nope, none at all. I don’t like weapons of any kind.”

Bruce nods and moves away from Arthur, giving him space to get up on his own, walking closer to the center.  
  
“Guessing it wasn’t Arthur,” Barry says, shrugging slightly. “Unless he’s playing us. In which case, good show.”

Arthur narrows his eyes at Barry, who takes a step back, “Why don’t we ask hacker boy, he’s the one who had the merch the entire time.”

“Yeah, man, like you two didn’t have chances to steal it at any point,” Victor argues. He looks at Bruce, says, “I know I transferred the files. You saw me do it.”

Bruce nods. And proceeds to half-listen to them throwing their accusations out, it’s only a matter of time before they’re shouting over each other. He looks around the warehouse, takes in the sight of how run down it is on the inside, when two thoughts occur to him. 

The first: they’re all pissed off. Luthor would be an idiot to show up, especially with Arthur involved.

The second: this isn’t the kind of place any of them would show up to willingly. Not even to get paid, he’s positive about that. Then, he realizes, the only way to get them here was to tell them that they weren’t getting paid. Luthor wants all of them to be in the same place, at the same time. 

And it clicks.

Bruce's gaze darts around as if the threat will become visible if he just looks. The realization weighing heavy in his chest. “Everyone out. _Now."_

It takes less than a second for them to catch on and start running towards the exit. He gets the loading dock door open, ushering them all out before him, the last thing he remembers is the heat of the explosion hitting his back.

* * *

Bruce wakes with a gasp, bright fluorescent lights causing him to wince, the heavy smell of antiseptics, and realizes he’s in a hospital. He looks down at his hand cuffed to the bed’s railing, quickly looking for something to pick it with. In the back of his mind, he wonders how the others are fairing, flashes of worst case scenarios forming in his mind.

“You really don’t like hospitals,” he hears Victor say, and turns to find him standing by the window. 

He ignores the reasons behind the immense rush of relief from seeing him. Then, ignores the statement, he doesn’t have the energy to bother with the possible line of questioning that might follow.

“Where?”

“County hospital,” Barry answers, his voice carrying over through the vent on the wall in front of Bruce’s bed. “You had us worried, man.”

He hears Arthur add, “It’s about time you joined the land of the living, Wayne.”

Bruce shakes his head, which only makes it pound even worse. “What’s the situation?”

“We woke up right when the cops and firemen showed up. Got processed as soon as we arrived here,” Victor explains, holding up his hand to show off the smudges of dark ink on his fingers. “Local cops, they had to fax our prints to the state PD.”

“Once state police run us, we’re screwed,” Barry says with a frustrated groan.

“Yeah. And depending on the software it’ll take them thirty, thirty-five minutes tops.”

Bruce appreciates how concise Victor’s recap of what he missed is, makes it all easier to start to come up with a solution. “How long ago?”

“Twenty minutes,” Victor replies.

“So, we’ve got ten minutes. Great,” Barry says, unhelpfully. “My dad’s going to be pissed if I go to jail.”

Bruce breathes in deeply, shutting his eyes as he thinks about how that sentence makes him feel. And he thinks about Victor’s father, how he’ll likely be pissed too, even if Victor doesn’t say it. There’s a pang of guilt forming heavily in his gut.

“None of us want to end up in jail,” Arthur shoots back, “Look, I could take the cops out easily.”

“That’ll only make things worse,” Bruce argues. He could do that too, even with his head pounding like it is now, but it’ll turn this into a manhunt especially when State realizes who they have.

“And will ruin my exit strategy,” Victor adds. 

“Wait, what about me?” 

He can hear Arthur scoff. “Rumor has it you’re an escape artist, I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

“Enough,” Bruce snaps, pinching the bridge of his nose as a solution begins forming. “I can get us out of here. All of us, together. I just need you to shut up for five seconds.”

“Why the hell should we listen to you?” Arthur asks. 

“Because you all know what you can do. But I know what all of you can do, that gives me the advantage and the plan,” Bruce says, while stretching out to grab the folder on the bedside table that has a paperclip. “Barry, get me a phone.”

“Bruce,” Victor says, tone weighted in a way that makes him turn towards him. There’s a worried look. “I don’t trust these guys."

Arthur scoffs. "Yeah, I don't trust you either."

The thing is Bruce doesn’t even blame them because he doesn’t trust them either. And he knows none of them have any reason to trust him.

Still, he asks, “Do you trust me?”

There’s a long silence that follows, Victor looking at him with wariness. “What’s your plan?” he asks, and it’s not a confirmation, but not a denial either. He can work with that.

“They’re expecting a call. Let’s give them one,” Bruce says. “Barry, phone.”

“On it.” He hears a deep breath, followed by Barry saying, “Oh, this is gonna suck.”

* * *

They make it out without a hitch, but only just barely. As soon as Victor gets into the front seat, they hear a nurse let the officers know that there's a call for them. 

They switch cars at one point and the rest of the way to Victor’s safehouse, Bruce can only think about how blind he’d been. He knew he shouldn’t trust Luthor yet he still went through with it. Then, he thinks about what Alfred’s going to say when he tells him about all of this. It’ll be infuriating to handle. 

“Four tickets to anywhere but here, coming right up,” Victor says lightly, he sounds tired as he heads straight for the impressive computer set-up. 

Arthur’s shifted from ease into fuming over their current situation. “I’m going to hurt that bastard so bad, he’s going to wish he were dead.”

“You’re never going to get close enough,” Bruce points out because the thought has already crossed his mind. “He knows what you look like.”

He glances over to see Arthur run a hand over his face and begin pacing, muttering angrily under his breath. Bruce would bet that he’s imagining the many ways he could make Luthor pay.

“Wow, Cy. This is a nice place,” Barry says, looking around with obvious interest. “Hey, do you mind if I raid your kitchen? You do have food here, right?”

Victor waves him off. “Sure. Help yourself.”

Barry practically bolts towards the fridge, wasting no time in finding food. 

“Guys, you should see this,” Victor calls out, and only once they all gather behind him, does he point to a specific screen and presses play on the video there. 

It’s a news story. The main text states that there’s been a break-in at STAR Labs and underneath that in smaller text, it identifies the man as the founder of STAR Labs, Garrison Slate. 

In the video, Slate explains the situation of their break-in from last night, how they lost five years worth of research, and that their servers had been sabotaged. He finishes off his statement with the promise of pursuing finding those responsible to the full extent of the law with all available resources at their disposal.

“Maybe, it’s a cover up?” Barry suggests.

Victor shakes his head. “Maybe. That’s why I pulled up the logs from the files we stole,” he says, pointing to the second screen filled with code, he points to a series of numbers that are easily distinguished as timestamps. “All the internal timestamps are over several years. It’s deep in the coding. There’s no reason to fake that.”

Bruce’s jaw tightens as he looks at the code, then towards the other information that Victor has pulled up. The meaning is evident and the truth settles in the heavy silence as they all realize it.

"We didn't steal them back, we just... Stole them.” Barry sighs, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “Why would he lie? Why not just hire us to steal them?”

"Because he's an asshole," Arthur offers, tone dripping in anger again.

“If he hired you to steal something, you would’ve known he was a criminal. You’d be expecting betrayal. Prepared for it,” Bruce says evenly, everything becoming clearer than it has in awhile. He shakes his head, ignores the weight of all their gazes on him. “That’s why he came to you with a sob story. Made himself seem like a desperate civilian in over his head. He manipulated you so you wouldn't see the double-cross.”

"So why didn't you see it coming?" Barry asks.

Bruce considers all the warning signs that he knew were surrounding Luthor, thinks about how he wasn’t going to do this job at all. But he let Luthor get under his skin, had let his hatred for the corrupted business tied to his son’s killer get to him because why wouldn’t he? 

Luthor had known exactly how to manipulate Bruce to do what he wanted.

And Bruce played his part perfectly, brushing off the red flags and not preparing for betrayal when he should’ve seen it coming from miles away. He _should’ve_ known.

Arthur must think he’s taking too long to answer because he gets in his face. “Answer the question, Wayne,” he says, tone hard, “You’re the Fed. The expert in taking down criminals. So, why didn’t you see it?” 

“Hey,” Victor cuts in sharply, “If you’re going to fight, do it outside of my place, man.” He’s glaring at them, walking over with tickets in his hands. “Here. I bought tickets matching the IDs you gave me.” 

He practically shoves their respective tickets against each of their chests, shoving between them before heading towards Barry. 

Bruce holds his ticket loosely, walking towards Victor’s monitors, looking at the article about Luthor he has pulled up. His smug face smiling back at Bruce, forming a thrum of anger, the gears already turning. 

“You’re running,” he says out loud, when a realization hits him. He hears the footsteps behind him stop. 

“Damn right, we are,” Arthur says, sounding incredulous, “I know this is your first time on the other side, but even you’ve got to know that when a man tries to kill you. You _get the hell out."_

“No. Luthor,” Bruce clarifies, pointing at the screen, he doesn’t look away. “You’re running. This was a high-risk move. Shareholder meeting coming up. We can’t let him cool down.”

Arthur is the first to get what he means, or just the only one to voice his realization. “You want to run a game on him.”

Bruce turns around finally, all their eyes are on him, and he tilts his head in a way that says, _sure, why not?_

He briefly considers admitting that his work at the bureau, especially while undercover, involved using a lot of similar tactics as cons. It’s the way he got a lot of information. 

What he actually says: “Look, Luthor’s the best kind of mark. He’s greedy. Power hungry. He thinks he’s the smartest man in the room, we use that against him.”

He notices a look of consideration on Victor’s face. “He does think he got rid of us,” Victor concedes, “We’ve got the element of surprise.”

It’s not a definitive answer, he realizes. He looks towards the others, Arthur wholly unconvinced and Barry frowning. Bruce sighs, coming up with a way to sell them on it, because he could use their help. “Listen, we can-”

“Stop right there. I’m in,” Barry says.

His immediate agreement makes Bruce falter in surprise because he hadn’t been expecting it. He asks, bemused, “You are? Just like that?”

“I mean, I was planning to send a hundred thousand porno magazines to his office and home. Maybe steal from his vaults,” Barry explains, shrugging, there’s a smile on his face. “But if you’ve got a plan, I’m in.”

“You’re actually considering this? Luthor tried to kill us,” Arthur replies, frowning as he glances around. “That means that he’ll definitely try again. And I don’t have a death wish. I’m young, I still have shit I want to do.”

“You wanted payback,” Bruce points out, “This is how. And if things go right, you’ll also get a lot of money.”

Arthur actually laughs, shaking his head, “You’re out of your damn mind, Bruce Wayne.”

Bruce starts to think maybe he is. But he’s not wrong. This, all of them together, is their best shot to make Luthor pay.

“Yeah, I’m not sure about this either,” Victor says slowly, “It’s risky. You said it yourself, Luthor knows our faces.”

Bruce nods. “Let me worry about that,” he says, though he can tell Victor’s still hesitant. 

“You know, being vague isn’t helping your case,” Arthur tells him.

Bruce ignores him, as he looks at his watch. “I need to make some calls. So, I’ll give you all until tomorrow to decide-”

“I won’t change my mind,” Arthur says.

“-if you’re in,” he says evenly, looking at each of them, “Meet at the entrance to Centennial Park. Four PM.” He turns around, heading for the door, ready to leave and get the fresh faces they’ll need to pull this off.

“Bruce, what’s in it for you?” Victor asks curiously.

He stops walking, leaves his back turned to them.

And he thinks about how an explosion is a clean break, an easy way to remove a problem. But more than that, he thinks about how Luthor had done his research so he knows the significance. He knew exactly what he was doing when he decided that was the way to kill them, to kill _Bruce._

Just like he knew how to get him to do his dirty work.

Because Luthor used _his son_ to manipulate him.

He could tell them that, he thinks they'd understand. But he doesn't want their sympathy, or worse their pity. He refuses to reveal the obvious weakness that Luthor's already pinpointed to more people.  
  
“I’m just trying to undo a mistake,” he answers, and leaves without looking back. "Four PM."

* * *

The first thing he does when he gets onto the street is lean against the side of Victor’s building and shuts his eyes. Memories of explosions at two different warehouses come flooding in, his heart races unsteadily. He takes several deep breaths trying to get back into control.

The next thing he does is call Alfred.

Alfred answers, he always answers, there’s a sigh of relief, almost too quiet to catch. “I must say, sir, considering the vague update from this morning, I half expected that I’d get a call about your body being found in a ditch,” he says, purposely glib. 

But Bruce has known him long enough to hear the underlying mix of worry and relief in his words.

“Warehouse actually,” Bruce replies, feeling instant guilt at the stillness that follows over the line at those two words, followed by a string of curses. He moves out of the way of foot traffic.

“Luthor,” he starts, before Alfred can coherently respond. “He tried to kill us.”

“Are you alright?”

“I’m…” He starts, scratching his forehead as he leans heavily against the brick wall of the building. “I’m in one piece, Alfred.”

Alfred huffs, Bruce closes his eyes and can picture him shaking his head. “And the others?”

“Alive,” he says, that relief he felt back in the hospital comes rushing back. “None of them seemed to be injured. At most they’ve got a few bruises. But they’re all fine.”

“I imagine a near-death experience has taken its toll on all of you. He won’t be happy to realize you’ve survived it,” Alfred says, after a long moment of silence. “Am I wrong to assume this is the last call I’ll receive for the foreseeable future, sir?”

Bruce can’t help but crack a smile at that. “Actually-”

“Oh, great,” Alfred says dryly, so much judgement in those two words, interrupting him before he can even say anything.

“You don’t know what I was going to say.”

“I don’t need to,” Alfred says, and he doesn’t sigh, though he might as well have. “I know you well enough to make an assumption.” Bruce can’t argue with that. “Go on, then. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

So, Bruce tells him that he’s planning to get back at Luthor. Hopefully with the other’s help, but he’s willing to go at it alone if he has to. The logistics will be worked out when he knows who's in. Then, he brings up who he plans to bring in and he can hear Alfred make a disapproving noise.

“Before that, I need you to track down Diana,” Bruce says. 

“Should I send her a note,” Alfred starts wryly, “‘Do you want to help Bruce and his new friends commit a crime? Check yes or no?’ I’m sure that’ll go over well.”

Bruce huffs, running a hand over his face. "Just see if she’s in town, will you?” He can practically hear Alfred rolling his eyes over the line. He can hear the distant scraping of a chair in the background. “And they’re not my friends.”

“Why not?”

“They’re criminals for one,” Bruce points out. 

“Nobody’s perfect, sir,” Alfred replies, without hesitation, “Besides you're not in a position to be so picky, considering how _many_ offers you have.”

“Goodbye, Alfred,” Bruce says pointedly, pushing away from the building and beginning to walk back towards his hotel. He hangs up once he hears Alfred saying goodbye back.

* * *

If Bruce were inclined to believe in signs, he would think that Diana being in Metropolis right now, might be a sign that things are looking up. Though, that isn’t necessarily true. She’s least likely to agree to all of this. 

But Bruce doesn’t have many options on who he can turn to.

He finds himself dressing up and sneaking into a Gala at the museum where Diana is supposed to be at. He wanders around until he spots her standing in front of a display of the sword of Alexander. 

“It’s a fake,” he says, watching the way Diana’s head tilts in acknowledgement, in the reflection of the glass, her gaze darts towards him. “Real one was sold in ‘98 on the black market. Now it hangs-”

“Over the bed of the Sultan of Hajar,” she finishes. Turning towards him with a polite smile, before narrowing her eyes. “What do you want, Bruce?”

“Can’t a man just enjoy some art and catch up with an old associate,” he says, the corner of his lip quirking up slightly.

Diana chuckles, smile still firmly in place, reaching out to adjust his lapel. “Of course,” she agrees, eyes darting up to meet him. “But you’re not that kind of man.”

He holds out his arm to her, she hesitates for a moment, eventually settles her hand in the crook of his elbow. He inhales slowly, says, “I’m cashing in one of the favors you owe.”

“If I recall correctly, you owe me,” Diana replies lightly. Which is true.

“Add it to my tab.”

He can feel her gaze on the side of his face as they continue to walk. She says, “I’m listening.”

Bruce briefly debates on how to sell it, ultimately deciding on the blunt honesty route, knowing that Diana would appreciate that much more. He suggests somewhere more private, as soon as they’re away from prying ears, she turns to him for an explanation. 

So, he tells her what the situation is. Leaving out a few details.

* * *

When he arrives at the park the next afternoon, Diana is already waiting for him. They don’t have to wait long until Barry shows up with a flurry of apologies about being late before stumbling through a painfully awkward introduction.

Diana smiles politely, before looking over at Bruce, brow raised in amusement. There’s a silent question in her expression and Bruce feels exhausted. He looks away instead of acknowledging it, he’s infinitely glad when he spots Victor walking towards them. 

“Is this all of us?” Diana asks curiously, after introducing herself to Victor. 

“More or less,” Bruce agrees, scanning the park one last time, in case Arthur happens to change his mind. He’s almost positive that he’s halfway across the world already. 

“So,” Barry starts, “Arthur wasn’t too happy when you left. I doubt he’s coming. Anyways, we’re really doing this, huh?”

Bruce nods slowly, and begins to walk towards his car. “We’ve got one more stop to make.”

He doesn’t bother answering any of their questions, listens as the boys fill Diana in on everything that’s happened. And he ignores the weight of her gaze whenever they bring up something he left out.

When they’re just two blocks shy of their destination, Diana finally realizes what he’s doing. 

“Bruce, no,” she says firmly, he can see her glaring at him in his peripheral vision. “Please tell me you’re not considering asking him.”

“Uh, what’s happening?” Barry asks slowly, through the rearview mirror Bruce can see him frowning as his gaze darts between them. 

Diana scoffs when she realizes he won't be responding. “Of course, you are,” she mutters, he can hear the disappointment in her voice. “He’s living an honest life now. You can’t-”

“He’s always lived an honest life,” Bruce retorts.

Because while Clark Kent may have been a thief, he's an honest man through and through. His career was, for the most part, a series of good deeds done in highly illegal ways. It was all annoyingly Robin Hood of him. Which is exactly what they need now.

“He’s retired,” Diana says, tone sharp, he’s positive that if looks could kill he’d be long gone. “You are aware of what that means, right? He’s doing well for himself. You _can't_ disrupt his life like this.”

Bruce hums noncommittally as he pulls into the alley. He glances at the time on the clock and knows they’ll be able to catch him.

“Mind telling us, who we're talking about?” Victor asks.

“Yeah, I’d like to know that too. Also,” Barry says, he leans a bit glancing out of his window. “Why are outside of the Daily Planet? Because, uh, reporters make me nervous. Well,” he pauses, “Most people do. But with our line of work, reporters are up there with the people not to interact with.”

Bruce turns in his seat to look at Barry, and says, “You don't have to worry about this reporter.”

“You can’t do this to him, Bruce,” Diana repeats.

He doesn’t know how to explain his thought process in a way that she’ll understand why it’s important that Clark is involved.

He remembers Luthor’s words about needing one honest man to watch over the rest, and while he hadn’t corrected him then, Bruce can admit that he’s not much of an honest man. The thing is Bruce can keep them in line, can provide all the detailed plans and contingencies, and boss people around. He knows how to make things work to his advantage. But that means nothing because he’s less great when it comes to people, as Alfred loves to remind him.

But Clark can balance it out, fill in where Bruce lacks. Someone to gauge when he’s pushing too much and offer a fresh perspective.

“He can say no.”

He doesn’t give her a chance to respond as he gets out of the car, it doesn’t take long for the others to follow suit. He walks until he’s just shy of the alley’s opening, angling himself so he’s got a clear line of sight of the door. 

“Uh, so,” Barry says, voice carrying enough that he hears it, “We’re recruiting a reporter? That’s what’s happening?”

Bruce turns to glance at him. “We need this guy.”

Barry's face goes through an array of emotions. “You do realize how bad of an idea this is, right?” he says, turning towards Victor, “I’m not being crazy, right?”

Victor frowns, seeming to consider it. “Yeah, Barry’s got a point. This sounds like a bad idea. Who’s this guy anyway?

Bruce doesn’t answer, he turns to watch the group exiting the Planet’s front doors. It turns out they don’t have to wait long, after about fifteen minutes, Bruce catches sight of a lone, yet familiar, figure exiting. He’s on the phone, walking towards his direction.

“Clark,” he calls out, watching Clark stop in his tracks, taking a moment to pinpoint him. He isn’t sure what to make of Clark’s expression as he quickly talks into his phone, ending his call before moving closer.

“Bruce, hi,” he says hesitantly, a crease forming between his brows in confusion. Then he laughs, a slow smile as he comes to a stop. “Don’t tell me you’ve decided to criticize my articles in person now? Or is it another 'anonymous' tip?”

The acknowledgment of his critiques and tips is enough to throw him off balance for a brief moment before he schools his expression. Though not nearly fast enough because Clark’s smile turns into a grin.

It’s not as if he ever thought Clark wouldn’t figure out that the tips and critique were him. He’s not naïve enough to think he wouldn’t have known, especially since he never bothered to cover it up too much. He just didn’t think that if they crossed paths again that Clark would bring it up. 

Instead of responding, Bruce tilts his head slightly, glancing up at the Planet's offices. “What do you think Perry would say if he found out that your degree in journalism is forged?” he asks, turning back to see the grin replaced with an exasperated look.

Clark sighs heavily. “I’ve been working here for years. I’m sure he won’t mind. Much,” he retorts, “Besides if you really were concerned about my qualifications, you’d have done something already.”

There’s something in his tone, as if he’s daring Bruce to argue because they both know it’s the truth. He looks away. 

“So,” Clark starts, “Not that I don’t mind, but why are you here?”

“Got caught up in something,” Bruce says, nodding towards the car and the others are clearly watching them. 

Clark follows the movement, and Bruce can see the questions forming in his mind as he takes in the ragtag group made up of Diana and two strangers. He smiles, waving gently at them. “Hey.”

When he turns back to Bruce, there’s an inquisitive look on his face.

“We need some… Help,” Bruce says, watching as surprise flits across Clark’s face, before etching itself into concern. 

“Must be serious if you’re asking for help,” Clark replies lightly, but the concerned expression betrays his tone. “What happened?”

Bruce glances out towards the street, steadying himself. “Lex Luthor happened,” he says, gaze coming back to see an understanding expression on Clark’s face, that must mean he's probably done some digging on the man before. “Corrupted businessman. Exactly your kind of mark. I know you’re retired. But I, uh… We could use your expertise to take him down. And get the thing he stole back to its rightful owner.”

Clark’s looking at him with a searching gaze. And for a brief moment, Bruce considers telling him that Luthor tried to kill them because he knows that’ll make him say yes. But he shoves that down as the last resort. 

“You’re committing crimes now?” 

He should’ve expected that to be what Clark focuses on. Hell, it’s what the others focused on when they found out he was joining them on the job in the first place.

“It’s…” he starts, sighing, “More like picking up where the law leaves off. Thought you’d understand that better than most.”

Clark huffs at that, nodding. “Well, I knew you weren’t visiting cause you like me,” he says, almost wryly.

“I don’t...” Bruce starts, suddenly feeling off kilter, staring just past Clark’s shoulders, he shakes his head slightly, “Not.”

He hears Clark laugh, when he looks at his face, he’s met with Clark’s blinding smile. It makes him feel like he’s drowning. He clears his throat, feeling flustered, “Um, are you in?”

And he hates that hopeful edge in his voice.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Clark answers.

Bruce lets out a soft sigh of relief, he knows that Clark seems to catch it based on the quirk of his eyebrow, but he nods once, turns abruptly and walks back to the car. 

“Alright, let’s commit a crime one last time,” he orders, avoiding meeting any of their gazes as he gets into the driver’s seat.

* * *

They get to Victor’s loft, only after Bruce gets coerced into buying them pizza and snacks from the gas station that’s next to the pizzeria. When they arrive at the apartment, Victor stops them as soon as they've stepped out of the elevator.

“Somethings off,” Victor says, eyes darting down the hall to the apartment door. And Bruce realizes that he's seeing tells that they can’t. Victor pulls out his phone, pulling up his security feed, then turns it to show them they’re all blacked out. 

“You think it’s Luthor?” Barry whispers. Victor shrugs helplessly as he taps away at his phone. 

“Wait, here,” Bruce says to them as he moves slowly towards the door. It's unlocked when he pushes it open, he immediately notices the lights are on and can hear the sounds of the TV playing. He glances around and grabs the umbrella that Victor has sitting to the side of the door before making his way slowly further into the apartment. He glances back to see Diana at the doorway, following him.

He stops abruptly when he’s got a clear sight of Arthur sitting on Victor’s couch and drinking beer. He lets out a sharp exhale, loosening his stance, and calls back, “It’s just Arthur.”

Arthur turns towards him. “I knew you’d show up eventually,” he says, in lieu of a greeting, “What took you so long?”

“Arthur, seriously, dude, don’t scare us like that,” Barry says relieved, walking into the room and depositing the pizza boxes onto the coffee table, wasting no time digging in. Arthur just smiles back, clearly amused.

“What the hell did you do to my cameras?” Victor asks, looking around the room for any other signs of damage. When he seems satisfied he goes over to his computers. 

“Nothing you can’t fix, kid. So, now that-” Arthur stops abruptly as he notices the new faces in the group. He looks them over, half suspicious and half appreciative. He leans over to Barry sitting on the other side of the couch. “Who are the hot people?”

“Right? Super hot. That’s Diana and Clark,” Barry answers around a mouth full of food. Diana clears her throat and Barry’s cheeks turn pink as he focuses on his pizza. 

“It’s rude to speak with your mouth full, Barry,” Bruce chides, reflexively. He ignores the looks sent his way, and narrows his eyes at Arthur. “What made you change your mind?”

Arthur sits up, grabbing a slice of pizza. “Well, I was at the airport. Ready to leave, when I realized that it’ll suck to hear that you guys died. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I still think this is insanely stupid but I’d rather not deal with that guilt.”

“I’m touched,” Bruce deadpans, rolling his eyes when Arthur tips his beer bottle towards him. 

“The full team is here,” Diana says, sitting down on the single seat beside the couch. “Should we get started?”

Bruce nods, looking towards where Victor is. Before he can say anything, Arthur speaks up, “Whoa. Hang on. Wait a minute, we don’t know these two,” he gestures towards Diana and Clark. “No offense, but what do you even do?”

“I can assure you that I’m just as qualified to be here as any of you,” Diana explains, meeting Arthur’s glare unflinchingly. 

Barry is looking over at her with a curious expression, before saying, “No idea what she means. But Clark’s a reporter.” Then, towards Bruce. “They can help, right?”

“They wouldn’t be here, if I didn’t think so,” Bruce says.

“Oh, so a reporter. That’s a genius move, Wayne,” Arthur says sarcastically.

Barry’s expression spells vindication as he looks at Bruce, as if saying, _see?_

“A reporter that happens to be a retired thief,” Bruce retorts, smirking slightly at the sight of Arthur’s expression going through several emotions as he looks over Clark again. He seems to be trying to make sense of the revelation. 

Clark looks downright sheepish at the attention now on him. 

“Besides, we need fresh faces, I don’t remember you offering up names,” Bruce adds, after a moment. Arthur rolls his eyes. 

“That still doesn’t tell us much about what he can do,” Arthur says finally, now looking over at Bruce. “Or what Diana even does. Hell, we don’t know if we can trust them. I mean, you’re a fed, for all we know so are these two. Gonna gather evidence to lock us up since you can’t.”

Barry looks torn for a moment likely startled for not even considering that possibility.

“Clark Kent,” Victor says, interrupting before anybody can speak further, walking towards them with a laptop in hand. “Award winning reporter for the Daily Planet. Raised in Smallville, Kansas. Adopted. All information checks out as legit, so must be his real name." He glances at Bruce, "Degree from MetU seems real enough. At least at first glance. Overall squeaky clean record.

“Although, there’s a huge gap of time unaccounted for,” he looks at Clark with an assessing gaze, “I assume that’s when former thieving happened?”

Clark tilts his head slightly in agreement, smiling gently, “That assumption wouldn’t be wrong.”

“How,” Barry starts, eyes wide in awe, “did you know all that?”

“I did a background check while Arthur was busy being an asshole,”

Arthur scoffs, leaning heavily back into his seat. 

Clark laughs, and asks, “Can I have my wallet back now?”

If Victor is surprised that Clark had known he stole his wallet, he doesn’t show it. Instead, quickly tosses it over. “And Diana's," he adds.

“Diana Prince,” Victor says, tossing it in her direction, she catches it easily. “Not nearly enough information about you. Which either means you’re a criminal good at covering your tracks, WitSec, or… You’re a _company_ woman.”

Diana smiles wryly, neither confirming or denying the assessment. Arthur turns towards her with a renewed curiosity. While Barry sits up, looking around wildly, asks in a hushed tone, “Like… A spy?” 

“Now can we get to why we’re all here?” Bruce asks.

There’s agreement from them all, in various levels of enthusiasm and volume. Arthur is still obviously suspicious of both Diana and Clark, but doesn't argue further. It takes a few moments for everyone to settle into seats, except Bruce who decides on standing behind the couch. Everyone digs in on the food surrounding them. 

“Alexander Luther Jr.,” Victor starts, projecting his computer screen onto the flat screen. Various pictures of Luthor fill the screen, including his covers on Forbes and Fortune. “Graduated from Princeton and Yale. Has been running LexCorp since he was a teen.”

“Boy genius and rich asshole, we know this,” Arthur says, gesturing with his hand in a signal for Victor to skip ahead. 

Bruce notices Clark tilting his head thoughtfully and knows that the gears are turning in his mind. “LexCorp is tied up in a lot of government contracts. A lot of classified stuff,” he says slowly, “Could we use that?”

“How do you know that?” Arthur asks, squinting his eyes at Clark. 

“Investigative reporter,” Clark answers as if it’s enough explanation.

“Cy,” Bruce says, plan forming already because of what Clark had said about government contracts. “I know you’d never make copies of the files.” 

It’s not a question, but Victor answers it anyway, “Of course not. That’d be bad for business.”

Bruce raises a brow. “Show me your copies.”

Victor actually smiles in response, wasting no time to bring up the designs for them all to see on the flat screen. Bruce tilts his head as he looks over the designs. 

“It’s an airplane,” Clark says. 

“A short alt domestic airliner, usually one hour flights. It’s the fastest growing segment of the industry. Fuel efficient, high tech,” Bruce rattles off the facts as he continues to stare at the designs. There’s silence that follows, he looks down to find all of them looking over at him in surprise. The question is obvious. “What? You pick up things.”

“You sure pick up a lot of things,” Barry replies dubiously, eyes squinted as he looks at him. 

Diana huffs, clearly amused, “That’s an understatement.” 

Clark bursts out in laughter, nodding in agreement. Both of them are horrible people and ignore the glares he sends his way. He really regrets this. 

“There’s something else,” Victor says, changing the topic, “When I did some digging last night, I found out Luthor’s been trying to get the manufacturing rights. But STAR kept denying it since the terms are insanely restricting.”

“He couldn’t be handled being told no,” Diana observes. “So, he took matters into his own hands.”

“It’s a multi-billion dollar industry. He got restricted rights on a plane this advanced-”

“He’s got a monopoly,” Clark finishes Bruce's sentence. 

“Doesn’t help that they were considering Wayne Enterprises' aerospace subsidiary. Luthor doesn’t want the rival to have an advantage,” Victor continues. 

Bruce inhales sharply, suddenly exhausted, with the irony of it all weighing on him.

“Ha, that’s your last name,” Barry says amused, taking a bite of his pizza, frowning when he notices the looks everyone gives him. He asks, muffled, “Wha?”

And despite spending so much time distancing himself from the Wayne legacy, he can’t help but feel a hollow ache whenever forced to face the proof of just how far removed he actually is from it. It’s not about the money, or recognition, or even the company itself, just the reminder of his parent’s work. That connection to them.

Clark simply explains it with: “It’s not a coincidence, Barry.”

It takes a moment for the realization to dawn on Barry. “Oh, huh.”

Bruce looks away, once again focusing on the screen ahead of him and the task at hand. He tilts his head as he mulls over what they do know. "Lots of restrictions when you've got defense contracts," he says, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place, the beginnings of a plan forming.

They’ll have a week to do the job in time for the shareholder’s meeting. Some strings need to be pulled to make it work.

(“What are you thinking, Bruce?” Clark asks, turning in his seat on the couch to look behind him, only to find that Bruce has disappeared. He huffs, shaking his head, he doesn’t know why he expected anything different.

“Where the hell did he go?” Arthur asks, when the rest have turned to look. 

Clark snorts, and says, “So, he hasn’t changed at all.”

“Wait,” Barry says, wide eyed as he looks at Clark, “Does he always do that?”

“You have no idea,” Diana says, exasperated.)

* * *

The first part of the plan is simple. 

Rather two parts that they’re planning to get done in one night. Fortunately for them, Luthor is holding a charity fundraiser at his residence. 

So while it’s happening, Barry and Arthur will be going to LexCorp, using security badges that Victor managed to provide. The plan is to plant bugs in Luthor’s offices and get Victor in through the computers there.

Meanwhile, Diana and Clark will be attending the fundraiser. And since the Daily Planet needed to send a reporter to cover the event, it’s easy enough to pull some strings, so that it’s Clark being sent. While there Clark will get them access to the servers.

Diana will be posing as consortium for a foreign private business. That’s how they’re going to get Luthor. 

Everyone knows their roles, ready to do their parts simultaneously, while Bruce and Victor oversee it from the loft. They’re blind, not because he doesn't trust Victor’s hacking skills, hell, the kid hacked into the Pentagon just to see if he could. Combined the two of them would be able to pull off completely taking over Luthor's security, but they don’t want to run the risk of Luthor taking notice of any intrusion, which means not doing anything that isn't absolutely necessary.

“All done on our end,” Barry informs them, not too long after they announced their arrival at LexCorp.

The entire time, Clark is keeping the comms busy with his interviewing, it makes Bruce want to shut his comm link off until he’s ready to do his part. Especially because now that Arthur no longer has to be quiet, he begins responding to it all. 

Even Barry starts joining in.

At one point, Clark stumbles over his question to whatever person he’s getting a quote from. And Bruce can just imagine the expression that must be on Clark’s face, what the interviewee must be thinking. When Clark gets a chance, he attempts to reprimand the two, who simply laugh.

“Focus,” Bruce grunts, ignoring the way Victor looks at him, likely having noticed the amusement that was there mere moments before. “Clark, got enough quotes?”

“I thought we shouldn’t use real names ‘in the field’, B,” Barry points out. 

Bruce rolls his eyes. "Focus," he says sternly.

"I've done my part!" Barry sputters out.

"Aw, he doesn't want to be our pal," Arthur says, the smile evident in his voice. 

"He doesn't have friends," Victor states dryly. He meets Bruce's sharp stare unflinchingly, raising his brow as if daring him to say he's wrong.

"Right," Barry says, drawing out the word. Then, in a sing-song tone, "Except for Clark."

Victor snorts. And Bruce's jaw tightens, this whole arrangement is becoming more hassle than he's prepared for. He's infinitely more glad that it's only temporary. 

"You're all children," Diana mutters over the line. 

"C'mon, you've gotta admit the favoritism is _so_ obvious," Barry argues. 

Arthur scoffs, "It's not favoritism. Bruce just-"

"Can we get back on task," Bruce cuts him off sharply, not wanting to know how he planned to finish that sentence. Though, he has suspicions. None of them are anything he wants said over comms. (He's trying not to focus on how eerily quiet Clark's line has gone.)

"Oh? Did I strike a nerve?" Arthur asks. He's electing to ignore Arthur for the rest of the night.

And Victor, likely because he's in the same room, actually gets on track by asking Clark if he's ready. Then, he wastes no time giving Clark directions on where to go, from there Clark knows what to do. It’s finished quickly enough, all that’s left now is Diana’s part. 

Silence falls over the line when Diana finally approaches Luthor, waiting with bated breath to see if this will work. Diana expertly introduces herself, draws him away from the crowd for business talk. Then, lays out the business proposal that they had come up with. 

Luthor doesn’t bite.

Bruce hears the cursing over the line. Beside him, Victor groans, leaning heavily in his chair. “Now what?”

Bruce holds up a hand as he narrows his eyes towards the screen, listening to the sounds coming over the comms. 

“I see,” Diana says, “Perhaps, I should’ve gone to someone else.”

Victor sits up when they hear Luthor ask, “Like who?”

“There’s no short supply in companies I could take my business to,” she says, “Perhaps, I’ll go to Kord, or even Wayne Enterprises. I just thought a partnership with you would be lucrative. But perhaps I was mistaken on the kind of man you were.” A pause, “Now that I think about it, either of those companies are a much better fit than LexCorp.”

Bruce waits for it, he knows Luthor’s competitive side is not going to let him lose business to anybody that Diana listed.

Luthor lets out a quiet laugh. “Oh, Ms. Devereux, I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to manipulate me,” he even sounds amused.

“I should hope you’d notice,” she says, unperturbed. Then: “Hundreds of millions of dollars in contracts, a lot of good press, all at your door.”

There’s a long moment of silence as they wait. Luthor huffs, and says, “Fine. I’ll take the meeting.”

“Holy shit,” Barry mutters, “It worked.”

“One step closer,” Bruce corrects. He feels like he can breathe a bit easier though. 

* * *

Everyone returned to Victor’s place to debrief and get everything ready for the next phase of the plan. Bruce is sitting at the kitchen island with one of Victor's laptops, they've divided up all the files they've pulled between everyone that has enough skills to attempt to decrypt them. Because almost all of it is heavily encrypted, it's hard to even find the information on Luthor's financials, or any of his passwords. 

“You’re looking a lot better now,” Diana says, standing on the other side of the island. 

Bruce arches a brow, he’d imagine that Alfred would say the opposite. He isn't sure if she means since that day at the museum, or if she's referring to the last time she saw him before all of this. He stays quiet instead of asking.

Diana sighs, though doesn’t seem too bothered at him not responding. “Listen, Bruce,” she starts, voice taking a softer turn. “I wanted to say I’m sorry about your son.”

Bruce inhales sharply, he stares down at the code filling the screen until he can steady himself, even just momentarily. He looks up to find Diana looking at him with an impossibly sad expression, it makes him feel angry.

“You don’t know anything about that,” he forces out, keeping his tone neutral. 

Diana’s still looking at him with that sad look. The amount of sympathy makes Bruce feel like he’s choking. 

“Everyone knows,” she says slowly, “A man like you goes off the radar, people notice. They talk. And it was an awful story, too.”

Bruce can’t look at her anymore. He can’t think about this right now, doesn’t want to, and he wants to talk about it even less. 

Memories are coming forward with a vengeance. 

He’s vaguely aware of Diana talking even if he can’t make out the words. “Diana,” he says harshly, “You and I are not friends.”

Bruce looks over at her and sees that sympathy shrink away into something like anger in response to him lashing out at her. Then, settling into pity. 

“Because you have so many of them,” she says sharply, shaking her head. And with that she leaves, not even waiting for him to respond.

Although, what could he possibly respond to that? It's not like it's ever been a secret that he doesn't really have friends, even before his life crumbled apart. Bruce downs the rest of his whiskey, refills his cup, then focuses on his task again. He doesn't know how much time has passed when Clark shows up.

“Hey, Bruce,” Clark says, “I’m going to head home for the night.”

“I’m not your damn keeper, Kent,” Bruce responds sharply, looking up at Clark. Expecting to see a similar expression to Diana’s, or even something akin to a kicked puppy look. Instead, he sees Clark frowning, eyes trained on the bottle of whiskey. 

“You’re drinking,” Clark observes. And before Bruce can make any snide remark about his keen investigation skills, he continues, “You never used to drink.”

He’s not wrong. 

But that was a long time ago, before he lost his job and, most importantly, before he lost his son. 

And Bruce hates that Clark even remembers that about him because they’ve never actually been friends. So the fact that Clark can remember details about him despite the fact that they haven’t even spoken in years, makes something twist painfully in his chest. 

“Things change,” Bruce retorts. 

Clark hums, nodding slowly as he meets his gaze, something like understanding. He hates that even more.

"I didn't want to ask in front of the others," Clark says suddenly, seeming to drop the subject. "But how's Alfred?"

Bruce blinks for a moment. He would ask about Alfred, still that makes the feeling in his chest worsen. "He's fine," he mutters, then because he really wants to be alone, he adds, "I thought you were heading home."

“It can wait a minute. What’s bothering you?”

Bruce takes a sip of his drink, relishing in the burn that distracts from what the full weight of Clark’s attention does to him. And maybe, just a bit out of spite. He notices the way Clark frowns. Like he’s expected better from Bruce. 

“Am I not allowed to be upset now that I’m a criminal,” he retorts dryly.

Clark laughs, which does nothing to let Bruce simmer in his current bad mood. “Sure,” he says, “But I’d rather my friend not be upset.”

“We’re not friends,” Bruce replies, like a reflex. He supposes Clark might be the closest thing to one, if it came down to it. But that’s not saying much. 

Clark shrugs, unbothered by the denial and the sharpness, he just keeps watching Bruce expectantly for an answer to his question. 

Bruce sighs. He knows Clark won’t give up, he runs a hand over his face. Eventually, he says, “This isn’t supposed to feel-”

He stops abruptly, leaving the thought unfinished. 

“Good?” Clark guesses. He looks at him, and Clark shrugs, “It’s not hard to figure out. I’ve been there, remember?” 

Bruce stays quiet, looks down at his glass, the all too familiar feeling of guilt crawling into his throat. 

“Luthor’s not a good man. He cheated, lied, tried to kill you guys,” the way he stares at Bruce is so pointed, he wonders who told him. He’s betting Diana, though it could’ve been any of them. “You're helping the scientists he stole from by getting the files back. Your conscience is clear.”

It sounds weird hearing the ways he’s attempted to compartmentalize all of this in Clark’s voice. It even sounds reasonable. Although, Clark definitely knows a thing about rationalizing this kind of thing, considering his time as a criminal do-gooder.

“You said it yourself we’re just picking up where the law leaves off,” Clark says, after a long moment without any response. "Trying our best to do the right thing."

They settle into a silence as Bruce looks at the screen. He thinks about the many things he could say, but doesn’t say any of them. 

Finally, Clark says, “I, uh... I’m gonna go now. Big day tomorrow.”

Bruce nods, not bothering to look up from his work. He can tell Clark is hesitating, he just doesn’t want to think about why. 

“You should get some rest, Bruce,” he says, then finally starts to walk away. “Goodnight.”

Bruce looks up, watching him leave, sees him look back before he disappears out of sight. Then, distantly hears the sounds of the door. 

“So, did you guys use to be a thing? Or?”

Bruce turns to find Barry standing off to the side with a genuinely curious expression.

“Or is it like, neither of you ever admitted-”

“Barry,” he cuts him off, watching Barry snap his mouth shut and look at him expectantly, “Shut up.”

Barry blinks at him, abruptly nodding. “Right, yeah, yep. You know what? I’m just…” He just his thumb in the direction towards the rooms, “I’m gonna uh, check on Cy's progress. Alright.”

He watches Barry bolt from the kitchen, fighting a smile before turning back to the screen. After several minutes, he decides to let the decryption program run without watching it and gets ready to head to the room Victor's offered him.

Before he does, he pours the remnants of whiskey in his glass down the drain. 

* * *

The day of their planned meeting, Bruce is sitting in the outside dining area of a café, right across the street from where they're setting up shop for Diana’s fake business. Clark and Victor are with him as they keep an eye out for Luthor. 

Despite Luthor’s flaws and eccentricities, he seems to be extremely punctual. 

“Luthor’s on-site,” Bruce says, watching Luthor make his way towards the building. 

Diana’s reply is instant: “What? No, I’m still upstairs.”

“If she’s not there to greet him, he’s going to try checking the office directory for us,” Clark says, an almost panicked look in his eyes as he shares a glance with Bruce.

“Why’s that a problem?” Barry asks. 

“We’re not in the directory,” Bruce reminds him, watching Luthor enter the building.

“Why aren’t we in there?” Arthur asks, his voice uneven in a way that suggests he's on the move. Likely not ready for Luthor's arrival either.

“I don’t know, maybe because it’s a fake office for a fake company,” Victor answers, sighing as he looks towards the office building. 

“Elevator's going to take too long. I’ll never make it,” Diana says. The frustration is obvious in her tone.

Bruce stares into the glass windows of the building, trying to pinpoint where Luthor is in the lobby. He stands up abruptly, ignoring the inquisitive looks Clark and Victor send his way. “Barry, get her downstairs fast,” he orders, “I’ll distract him.”

He walks down the street and hopes the owners have good insurance before he takes out his retractable baton, smashing several windows that he walks past, alarms blaring loudly behind him as he briskly walks away from the scene he’s caused. Soon he hears shouting. 

"Is he really breaking windows?" Arthur asks, the sounds of a hand drill whirling in the background. Followed by Barry telling Diana how to get the zipline harness secured.

"That's exactly what he did," Clark confirms, voice dripping in his disapproval.

Arthur bursts into laughter. "You really are out of your mind," he comments, amused. There's a pause, he's still putting up their sign based on the drill sounds. "Breaking windows. I dig it."

In the next second, the comms are filled by Barry's startled yelling. He can guess that Diana threw them over the railing without hesitation. Her delighted scream gives it away. Because of course she’d find ziplining, even in a staircase, exciting. 

He walks around the block before rejoining Clark and Victor at the café. Clark gives him a certain look that he’s avoiding. 

“Show time,” he mutters as he listens to Diana talk about their company to Luthor. She feeds him all the lines she’s supposed to, mentioning the finder’s fee. It doesn’t take too long for them to entire the boardroom with all of Diana’s ‘associates’. 

She closes the deal.

After it’s all done and Diana walks Luthor out of the building, all business smiles. She waits until his car disappears in the distance before making her way across the street. 

“We own him,” Diana announces as she sits down with them.

“We’ve got a busy day ahead of us,” Bruce says, standing up from his seat, ready to leave.

The others get up too, except Barry, who asks, "Can we eat here? Being thrown over a railing without warning really wears a guy out."

"You're always hungry," Victor points out, already firmly back in his seat. Arthur just shrugs and follows suit, already looking over the menu.

"I'm sorry, Barry," Diana says, sounding apologetic and amused in equal measures. Then, "I don't see why we shouldn't eat before getting back to business."

Bruce stares down at them, ready to argue that time is valuable and they need to be fully prepared. But Clark says, "We've got enough time." 

As if he could already tell where Bruce's train of thought was going. He meets Clark's gaze. 

"Besides, when was the last time you ate?" Clark asks, already sitting back down. "Food's important."

Bruce sighs, glancing away. The others are already pouring over their menus and debating on what to get. He waits several moments before sitting down with them. Halfway through the meal, the conversation going strong as they trade stories. He thinks maybe this isn't so bad after all, and despite not offering much to the conversation he doesn't feel uncomfortably on the outside. It's almost... Nice. 

He catches Clark looking at him, a knowing smile on his face, and Bruce glares in response which doesn't make the expression falter. In fact, Clark seems almost smug, as if his glare was confirmation.

* * *

The next morning, they start packing up everything they’re going to need for the final phase in the plan. When they get to LexCorp, the shareholder meeting’s over, all the investors already moved to the balcony of LexCorp to have celebratory drinks. Diana joins to get the final pieces into place. 

Meanwhile, the rest of them get suited up into their stolen FBI gear and wait for their cue to enter the building in plain sight.

In the end, it’s more than satisfying to watch Luthor meet his downfall. 

Especially because he was so adamant that he was one step ahead of them the entire time.

* * *

Bruce walks into the unfinished boardroom, it feels like a lifetime ago since the last time he was here. It's strange how much has changed over the course of a week. He sees Slate waiting for him already. 

“I came alone,” Slate tells him, obviously wary and nervous as he glances behind Bruce. 

“I know,” he answers, walking over until he’s right in front of him. “I understand that your research was completely wiped. I have copies on these hard drives. Along with hard evidence that they were on LexCorp computers. Enough to file a couple lawsuits.”

Slate looks at the hard drive in Bruce’s hands. He meets his gaze, and nods, “I’ve dropped the investigation of the original theft. Like you asked. No charges for you, or your people.”

“Good,” he agrees, holding the drives out. “Here’s your property.”

Slate is hesitant, but takes it eventually. He’s still looking at Bruce cautiously like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. "Uh, I don’t think I can thank you enough for giving the research back," Slate says, earnestly under all the nerves.

Bruce nods firmly. Already walking away because he's done here.

“Don’t you want money, or I don’t know, something? What’s the catch?” Slate asks.

Bruce pauses in the doorway, he looks back at Slate. “No, we don’t want anything from you,” he states, taking in the look of utter surprise on Slate’s face.

Before he leaves, he does sternly add, “Do me a favor and change insurance companies.”

* * *

The news has been running the story on LexCorp's massive drop in stock due to the multiple federal investigations all day long. As soon as the news dropped, Clark's phone had gone off and he'd had informed them that according to Lois the entire bullpen was in a frenzy because of the story. Bruce is sure that Perry White is having a field day.

Right now, though, Bruce watches the group gathered together near where they'd gone to send the designs to Luthor. He has one last thing to do before he joins them.

“You should’ve just paid us,” Bruce says, as soon as Luthor answers the phone. He can make out the sound of Agents still mulling around in the background. 

“I found the transmitter,” Luthor says, all traces of affableness gone. 

Bruce half smirks. “We wanted you to find that one.”

He listens to Luthor’s bitter laugh. “I’ll fight this, you don’t know who you’re messing with. I’m going to beat this. And-”

“What about the bribe?”

There’s a scoff. “What bribe? You can’t prove anything. I don’t have the-”

In the background he hears a commotion, an Agent shouting, “Found checks and cash in the safe!”

“-money,” Luthor finishes dully.

“It doesn’t account for all of it,” Bruce concedes. After cashing it in Luthor’s name, Barry and Victor used a cut to buy some impressive electronics, before Barry planted the rest.

He doesn’t wait for a response before continuing, “You’re smart, you know how the stock works. You can imagine the earth shattering amounts of money you can make if you know a company’s stock is going to fall thirty percent in one day.

“See, we didn’t need the FBI to come and take you to jail,” he explains, he can practically hear Luthor fuming on the other end of the line. It's immensely satisfying. “We just needed them to show up and take boxes out of your building, all day long in front of news cameras. Scaring your investors. Really, you going to jail is just a bonus.”

“It won’t last, I’ll get out of this.”

“Maybe,” Bruce muses, “Tell me, how much digging do you think it’ll take to uncover your other wrongdoings?”

Luthor exhales sharply.

“If you so much as mention us to anybody, next time we won't be so nice,” Bruce says, he doesn’t wait for a response before hanging up. 

Bruce continues down the path he’s been walking until he’s joining the others. Victor is passing out envelopes to each of them with a grin, as he proudly declares, "And that's everyone's cut. Enjoy."

Bruce nods as he opens it, the sounds of paper rustling as they all do the same. Arthur curses in surprise and he can’t blame him, he wasn’t expecting this much either.

"Woah," Barry says in awe. "That's… A lot of zeros. Is that the right number?" He’s leaning over to look at everyone else's checks as if expecting to see something different, he looks at Victor with wide eyes. “This better not be a joke, dude. Or I’ll cry.”

“Huh, I suppose it’s true that crime pays better,” Diana says, laughing in disbelief as she shakes her head. "How'd you manage this?"

"There was overlap in the London stock. A lot of technicalities," Victor explains, the corners of his lips quirking up into a smile. "And well, let's just say I'm really good at what I do."

"You sure are!" Barry says brightly, "I'd kiss you if you’d let me." Instead, he raises his hand offering a fist bump which Victor returns, with a slight roll of his eyes, but there’s a smile on his face. “Cy, you’re my hero.”

“Victor,” he corrects, causing everyone to look at him in surprise. Except Bruce. “My real name. I figured we almost died together and all, I might as well let the rest of you know it.”

“Rest of us?” Diana asks. 

“Bruce knew,” Victor answers. 

“You knew and didn’t say anything?!” Barry asks, looking betrayed. He pauses, then nods slowly. “That checks out actually.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Victor,” Clark says politely, earning a nod from Victor, followed with a small smile.

"Damn," Arthur says looking down at his check again. "If I knew working on a team gave payouts this big, I'd have done it sooner. This is _the score._ " He slaps Victor’s back excited, and says, “Nice work, man.”

Barry laughs, still staring at the check as if the numbers will disappear if he looks away, finally he looks up, glancing around at each of them. “So, we’re out, right?” he asks, hesitantly.

“Yeah, man. This is retirement money,” Victor says, shrugging, “We can go legit and never have to worry again.”

That causes a moment of silence as what he says settles in. Because he’s right, it’s enough to be comfortable for the rest of their lives. And Arthur was right, about it being the score, for them, this is the kind of thing that everyone in their line of work is always chasing down.

The sentiment is enough to cause a shift, their excited camaraderie simmering into something more somber.

Bruce clears his throat, pocketing his check. "Well, pleasure doing business with you all."

Everyone seems to snap back into attention at that. Diana nods, "Agreed. It’s been wonderful working with all of you. But this was a one time thing."

"No encores," Victor agrees.

"I've already forgotten all your names," Arthur says blandly as if he’s forcing the words out. A complete one-eighty from the last time he uttered them. His brows quirk as he offers a lazy salute.

Bruce looks at all of them before nodding. "It hasn't been... Completely terrible."

“You always have such a way with words, Bruce,” Clark says, eyes glittering with amusement, the corners of his lips quirking into a smile. Bruce fights the urge to smile back, instead rolls his eyes.

They stand around for a moment as if all waiting for someone to say something, anything to keep it going. 

Bruce clears his throat, biting back any goodbyes that are on the tip of his tongue and begins to walk away. The others almost immediately follow suit, all going their separate ways without looking back.

It’s the way this was always going to end, the way it _has_ end.

Bruce continues down the path to get back to his car and then make the journey across the harbor, back to Gotham and Alfred. Which is normally a comforting thought, except suddenly the thought of going home feels daunting, almost hollow. And he knows it’s because he’s stupidly become attached. 

He can practically hear Alfred telling him that it’s because he’s finally made friends.

"Okay, so here's the thing," Barry says, falling into step beside him. "I’ve never had that much fun on a job before.”

“Barry,” Bruce warns.

“I have trouble focusing but you kept it interesting. And I have trouble, uh, connecting with people,” Barry continues, as if Bruce hadn't said a thing. “Plus, I… need friends.”

Bruce feels a sharp jab to his chest at the statement. The awkward, half hopeful way Barry admits it. And he thinks of how he’s spent his whole life needing friends, but not knowing how to start, or even how to keep friendships. 

He finds himself looking over at Barry.

“And I know for a fact that you need friends,” Barry says. “So, it seems obvious that we should keep this going.”

Bruce can feel his resolve slowly chipping away. 

“I could use some friends too,” Victor admits, falling in step on his other side, another chip forming in his resolve. 

“It’s a walk away,” Bruce reminds them, it’s a weak attempt at it.

“Look, I’m really good at this, I've been doing it for so long,” Victor continues, shaking his head. “What am I supposed to do now? Have a normal life? I can’t just retire.”

“You want to know what I think,” Arthur joins them.

Bruce fights the urge to sigh audibly. “No,” he grunts, already knowing Arthur is going to ignore his answer.

“How long until you fall apart again?” Arthur asks, like he’s actually concerned, and Bruce is starting to realize he really might be. “A guy like you, clearly enjoys the chase. You need this just as much as the rest of us.”

Bruce is trying his best to ignore him. The resolve that Barry and Victor chipped away at, building back up firmly. 

“He’s got a point,” Diana says, and that almost makes him break his gaze from where it’s been set ahead. "It's obvious that you're in your element when a chase is involved. It's a gift really. And you're too good to give that up."

Bruce opens his mouth, ready to deny it, ready to double down on the fact that this was a one time thing, when his phone rings. He takes that as an excuse to get out of the conversation, answering and speeding away, of course the others still follow.

"You pick the jobs," Clark says, like he's just telling Bruce the weather. His voice echoing and he looks up to see Clark sitting on a bench, not too far ahead of them.

He hangs up, only stares at Clark, raising his brow in question as Clark stands and walks towards them.

"You pick the jobs," Clark repeats.

“Thought you were done with this work,” Bruce counters.

Clark lets out an amused huff as he looks away, meeting Bruce's gaze after a moment, his expression so earnest it hurts. “Yeah, well, if you're going to always take down the corrupt, then it’s as good as any to get back into.”

And it’s almost tempting. 

Almost.

Bruce takes a steadying breath as he looks away from Clark, towards the buildings behind him. "I... I'm not a thief. This isn't my thing," he argues, it's a weak excuse to keep from doing this, especially considering how Clark’s interests fall in line with doing the right thing. “I catch bad guys, I help people.”

“You know, I’m a big fan of justice,” Clark starts, challenging and steady, “So, go find us some bad guys.”

Bruce pauses in surprise as he blinks at him then looking away, seeing the expectant stares from the others. Thinks about how he'd actually enjoyed himself for the first time in awhile because of them, not that he'll ever, _ever_ admit it. Not even under extreme duress. He lets himself imagine them continuing this, in the same line of taking down men like Luthor.

And he knows that there's no shortage in bad guys with a lot of money they've gotten by doing horrible things to people that can’t fight back. People that need help fighting back, help that they can provide them, even if it's questionable at best.

He meets Clark’s expectant stare and already knows he's lost the non-argument, knows he's going to agree. And he watches Clark's small smile shift into a beaming grin, like he knows it too. 

**Author's Note:**

> *ben wyatt voice* it's about the bonds forged while committing crime and getting payback
> 
> hope you enjoyed! please feel free to let me know your thoughts and whatever you liked. thanks for reading!


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